The one that got away
by Kuraineko66
Summary: You didn't notice that I wasn't lying next to you? You didn't notice that I had marks around my neck? Even if you did, you didn't comment on it. And I suppose that since you didn't comment on it I figured it was okay to do. Misaki X Usagi. Four chapters. Angst. Depression.
1. Save me

This is just a short story hat I figured I might as well make a fanfiction. Actually, I took the material from my personal diary. So, this story is sentimental to me and I felt like I should share it. Of course I changed some things to make it fit JJR.

Please review and subscribe or follow.

* * *

_The one that got away._

_ -Kuraineko66_

Usagi-san, first things first, I suppose you should know that I used to hate novels about suicide. I used to hate them so much that my chest would constrict and the blood in my veins would pump in small proportions. I hated those novels, those depressing verifiable tales that would squeeze my heart so much that I could swear I was dying of the validity of those stories.

There was no real point in reading those types of novels, why would I want to? Why would our teachers even make us read them?

Here I was at 19, an avid reader of fiction, reading books that defined the choice of sentience, where people where treating life like it was poetry. The nature of these books didn't require the annotations of teenagers. I didn't need to hear my yellow highlighter have kinky sex with the black text that was, for most students, just pieces of a grade. I didn't need to annotate for parallelism, I didn't need to be introduced to the concept of choosing.

The independency was so rare an occurrence that the more I read these bleak stories the more I realized that these despondent souls were engaging in forms of independency. They were taking on the responsibility of destroying a hope so bright that it was radiating the cancer from spreading to society.

Then I began to realize that the cancer had spread when the beeping of someone's monitor stopped.

So, I used to hate novels about suicide. I hated that these characters had felt cornered. I hated that they were allowed to commit a moral treachery; a breech of society, while us normal people were stuck on the planet like butterflies on a spider web; counting down the seconds until the seconds starts counting people and clocks become statistics.

Who cares how many clocks break because it counted the seconds in a persons life, too short. Too unfulfilling.

I used to hate novels about suicide. Oh god knows that I hated novels about suicide.

I hated them.

But I can't hate them if I attained my own form of independency. I can't hate them if I, myself, counted down the seconds on my own clock or if the seconds counted me as they echoed, _tick, tick, _in my head. I can't hate them if I heard the end of a beep as loud as a dial tone and if I were a butterfly with a lifespan of a week in a cobweb of a million years.

I can't hate them if my life, in its immaturity, was a novel in itself.

* * *

If you're wondering where this began, Usagi-san, the dark thoughts first started when I was absolutely drowned in absolute. Away from the problems that I faced, knowing that when I woke up it'd be the same routine and the same problems. I was very drunk. Very stupidly drunk. And I guess that's why I decided to run away from my problems. I know you will be devastated once you find me and once you read this. Well, if you cared enough to find me. God knows that the new _younger_ fan you've been talking to lately has taken up almost all of your time and energy.

Oh please, like I didn't notice that you never say I love you unless we were having sex, which we rarely do any more. Or when you would leave at god awful hours in the morning and creep back hours later as if I didn't notice the indent in the space next to me. As if I didn't feel your warmth leave me for some other, younger, male.

But anyway, I was drunk when I first began to think about the meaning of my life. And it was funny almost; really it was quite comical, when I asked this question everyone's face scrunched as they began thinking.

_Why do we exist? _Then, someone, I don't remember whom, laughed and said 'he's just drunk'. Everyone laughed alongside each other; nobody wanted to understand what bearings my question meant. They couldn't fathom the possibility that their lives meant nothing because honestly, if we are being honest with each other, our lives don't mean anything. In the bigger picture, the one that was painted by past sins, our lives are as meaningful as money.

On the floor, rolling around because the room wouldn't stop spinning, I began to understand more about this feeling I had. It wasn't until today, the day after the drinking, that I had a divine intervention.

That night, I cried on our bathroom floor, hand clamped over my mouth, because I was dying of the same cancer that killed many of my generation. I bit, pinched, and punched myself so you wouldn't hear me. You didn't notice that I wasn't lying next to you? You didn't notice that I had marks around my neck? Even if you did, you didn't comment on it. And I suppose that since you didn't comment on it I figured it was okay to do.

Because twenty-four hours a day all I could hear was a ticking of a black clock, the numbers blared music in my face.

45 minutes. Only 45 more minuets, which on a clock would be from 1 to 9, right?

19. Can't live past 19; can't live for more than 45 minuets a day.

And it didn't start anytime soon. The depravity of oxygen that I'm feeling now started when your brother called first called me and told me he had seen you at the Tokyo Party that Aikawa was throwing for your birthday. You said you ditched it for me and we were going to stay home and watch movies. I didn't believe him. He sent me pictures. It's in the top drawer, right under the bear statues he sent me for my birthday.

Which is today. If you forgot. You probably did. I didn't forget; the cancer within me didn't forget either. And I figured, on my birthday, the day that used to hold so much meaning to my family, I would die.

But that's not true. I don't want to die…but I do. I don't want to live feeling like I have nothing to live for and I don't want to die without living. So I'm stuck in the middle, trying not to be selfish. Trying not to fucking disappear. But I miss you Usagi, I love you and I miss you.

I don't know what to do anymore.

I feel like shit.

I feel like I'm worth nothing.

I feel like the right thing for me to do is die.

The deed is already done, can you save me Usagi-san? Will you save me Akihiko?

I don't want to die without you knowing how much I love you. I'm a coward. But please, _please, please, please_, don't let me die.

I love y-

* * *

The door to the condo slammed snapping out of Misaki out of the blood stained letter he was currently writing. Akihiko wasn't supposed to be home for a few days. Misaki was hidden in the tub of Akihiko's bathroom. He grimaced, he supposed that the bathroom was a terrible place to hide. Especially if he didn't want to be found.

"Misaki?" Akihiko called out. Each step that the male took left Misaki in a fit of tremors. He went over his options, he could pretend that he wasn't bleeding out. But the tiles were painted with red and it would be hard to hide that. "Misaki?"

Misaki was silent. He willed Akihiko away; the door opened and Misaki stiffened and closed his eyes. It would only be a matter of time before AKihiko saw him, judged him, then left him. It wasn't then till he realized how much he wanted to live. It was a mistake. This was a mistake. His wrists burned with oozing guilt. His vision swam from loss of blood and tears.

He just hoped that Akihiko wouldn't hurt him too much when he-"Misaki?"

He was outside the door. Don't come in. Please don't come in. Misaki clutched the letter tighter.

"D-D-D-Don't come." His voice was small despite how much he tried to sound confident and fine. "I'm fine," His voice evened out, "I'm j-just not feeling well. Can you just t-talk through the door?"

Akihiko didn't open the door and instead sighed, "Yea that's fine." He heard the silver headed man clear his throat, "U-Um...I kind of wanted to talk to you...about something."

Misaki's head hit the tiles of the floor trying to climb out of the bath tub. He cursed lightly and thank the gods Akihiko didn't hear. "Y-Yea?"

"I actually wanted to show you something but I guess I can talk to you outside the door."

Misaki pressed his back onto the tub and curled his knees to his chest. "Ever since the day I met you I've loved you. I love everything about you. I know I haven't said it as much as I used to but I wanted this moment to be special. I want this to be a day that we'll remember as a couple."

Misaki cried silently, he was in so much pain. He didn't want to die.

"I asked for Aikawa's help in picking it out, since she has a fashion sense, but she made me go to that stupid party that I didn't want to go to. And then she made me go shopping with her cousin. That was the worst day of my life," He laughed, "I've spent so much time thinking about doing it that I would wake up at 3 in the morning making sure that the damn thing was still in my tuxedo pocket."

Misaki laughed weakily. It was getting hard to breathe now.

"So...I guess...what I'm asking you...Misaki Takashi, the love of my life, will you mar-"

"Ambulance." Misaki couldn't take it. The pain was excruciating. "What? I didn't hear you. Misaki...are you okay?"

"Akihiko, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry." Misaki sobbed, "I'm sorry. Please."

"What? Listen Misaki, its fi-" Akihiko opened the door and gasped. His mouth opened and closed. What the hell? What the HELL? Akihiko didn't know if he was dreaming, if he was he wanted to wake up.

"Don't let me..." Misaki's eyes were closing, the letter dropped from his hands, "Save me."

"Misaki?" His eyes rolled in the back of his head. "MISAKI?"

Akihiko dialed 911; gave the operator his information and sat with Misaki until he heart the blaring of the sirens. Leaving the forgotten ring encased with diamonds on the floor, he noticed the letter. Picking it up he began to read with tears in his eyes and his right hand clutching Misaki's beautiful head, Usagi-san, first things first, I suppose you should know that I used to hate novels about suicide.

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Should there be a part two? Review!


	2. Until death do us part

I appreciate those who reviewed . This topic is sensitive to me and I'm glad that each one of you found my story good enough to review. Here's part too that everyone wanted.

You guys should check out my other JJR fanfiction's. My favorite one is Vampire's mercy.

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The one that got away.

_-Kuraineko66_

He kept reading on the way to the hospital. Misaki was pale and Akihiko had to force himself to look away. It was his entire fault. He had been the one to neglect Misaki. He killed Misaki.

Usagi-san didn't know whether to cry, throw-up, or join Misaki in his selfish sin. _Was it really selfish?_ Akihiko grimaced; Misaki trying to commit suicide was not selfish in his eyes, the boy deserved to do with his life what he wants. Still, Akihiko found it hard to accept. _Why would he need to leave me?_

Then the car stopped; the blaring of sirens stopped dancing dark melodies in his head. Misaki was being carried out in a rush frenzy and still Akihiko couldn't move.

'Or when you would leave at god awful hours in the morning and creep back hours later as if I didn't notice the indent in the space next to me'

"Misaki…" His chest hurt, his head hurt. Fuck, he needed to call Takahiro and Aikawa and Sumi (only because he was Misaki's friend). How was he going to explain that he killed the only thing that mattered to him? He needed someone to comfort him but no one lifted a finger to help him.

_Why wasn't it me? Why did it have to be him? It's not-_

"Sir, you need to evacuate the car please." Akihiko blinked back the tears and rushed to his lover. Letter in his pocket burning his thigh, Akihiko ran past the nurses and the desk attendant. He ran past Takahiro, Aikawa, and his brother not stopping to realize that he didn't remember calling them. The hospital probably did or maybe he called them to make sure that someone, _anyone_, with a relationship with Misaki would hate him as much as he hated himself.

"Akihiko!" Takahiro called out. He almost stopped, he would've stopped too, but at that moment he saw Misaki rounding a corner and he pounced. Latching onto the handle of the bar, Doctors called security to pry him off. "Akihiko, let him go!"

"NO! Misaki wake up! Please wake up!"

The security guard was dragging him away from Misaki, Akihiko thrashed and kicked. Screaming he continued, "GIVE HIM BACK TO ME! Don't touch me! Don't fucking touch me! Misaki! MISAKI!"

Takahiro grabbed the security guards shoulder letting him know that Akihiko was safe with him. Akihiko looked at his old best friend and began sobbing, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't…. It's my fault."

The silver headed male fell to his knees and grabbed Takahiro's leg. He began sobbing. "I-I…"

Before Takahiro had the chance to say anything, Akihiko held the letter to his chest and then gave it to Misaki's older brother.

Akihiko kept hearing the blaring of the sirens even after they had stopped. The white lights illuminated in his mind as he looked up. For a minuet, he thought of praying to the one thing he thought never existed.

_God. Please. I don't care if I'm dragged to hell, just save him. _

"You told the paramedic to call me and I called your brother and Aikawa." Takahiro took a deep breath; his hand was shaking as he clutched the letter like a life support. He was holding Misaki's hand and he sat on the bed.

It was the one time in his life he let his brother touch him; it felt warm and supportive, unlike the other times where the touches were grazes of hate laced with the burning sensation of lost friendship. Haruhiko was hugging his brother from behind, his face embedded in Akihiko's back to hide the tears of shame and love. Akihiko nodded, glad that at least his brother didn't hate him.

"Since when?"

Akihiko could have lied; yet, he was too tired and emotionally exhausted to even think of an excuse to save both his and Misaki's reputation. "Since you told me you were getting married."

Takahiro scoffed. "How'd it happened?"

"He cried for me. I kissed him," Akihiko smiled, "We fell in love."

Haruhiko bit his lip and his grip tightened on Akihiko's back. Love that pure was something that Haruhiko had never experienced. Well, not until he met the one thing he couldn't have. Misaki, _Akihiko's_ Misaki. Haruhiko smiled, the way that the young boy lit up whenever he saw Akihiko was a joy to see.

"But he's 10 years younger than you. Aren't you taking advantage of him?" Akihiko flinched at Takahiro's question. _Aren't you? Misaki doesn't love you. If he did why would he…_Akihiko stopped thinking negatively.

"No." Simple, to the point, and curt. There was no more questioning on Takahiro's part.

The silent party in the room chose that moment to speak up, "He thought you were cheating on him."

Akihiko nearly snarled, "And whose fault do you think that is?" Aikawa flinched and began crying once more, "I'm sorry."

Akihiko sighed, "No, I'm sorry. I'm just…he just…why didn't he just talk to me? I would have told him how I felt…everything would have been fine."

Takahiro rubbed his younger brother's hand, "He's going to wake up. Everything is fine."

Akihiko was lost in his guilt so he couldn't really call Takahiro out on his bluff.

"But-" Haruhiko paused and looked at Misaki longingly, "What do we do when he wakes up?"

It was an unspoken plan that the three concerned family members of the mentally scarred young male created. "We have to send him away."

Akihiko didn't know who spoke nor did he want to. "No." All eyes turned to him, "You'll send him away over my dead body."

He secretly wished that they would send him away so he would have an excuse to die.

* * *

Four days, 5 hours, 45 minuets and 30 seconds Akihiko had stood by Misaki's bedside counting the days that kept them apart. 35 seconds, 38 seconds, 39-

Misaki coughed and struggled against the feeding tube in his throat. Standing up, Akihiko screamed for a nurse. He grabbed for Misaki's face and pressed his forehead against the younger boys chest.

_Thump. Thump._ Akihiko became overjoyed. His face leaked enough tears for Misaki and himself, seemingly endless tears.

_Thank you! Thank you._ He praised every god imaginable. He wasn't aware that the gods had acknowledged his request at mercy.

Misaki was lying there staring off into the clouds. He hadn't expected to survive and he wasn't quite sure he wanted to. Where was his brother? And Usagi-san? Where was Usagi-san?

Maybe he was in hell? The white walls that blinded all of his senses alarmed him of the surreal possibility. Hell was clean and smelt of guilt-there was no screaming, only a slow deterioration of emotions. Misaki sighed; he was analyzing the current predicament too much.

Stuck in his thoughts, Misaki didn't hear the door open nor did he hear the multiple pairs of feet parading around his room like he was a fossil in an exhibit. Someone cleared his or her throat and Misaki looked up. Immediately, his eyes locked with the blue small journal that his brother held in his hand. That was his personal Journal right? Misaki blanched. No one was supposed to find that.

"Um…" His brother started nervously. Puffy, red, eyes looked Misaki from head to toe; that made the green-eyed boy nervous. "We…me and Manami wrote letters to you…to um-"

"Tell you how much that we love you." Manami smiled sweetly. Misaki had the sudden urge to throw up. Everyone was pretending; they didn't love him. Misaki swallowed nervously, the dark thoughts would never stop eating him alive.

"Am I dead?"

It was almost amusing to watch Takahiro's eyes widen. His knuckles were a sickish ghastly color, his face was worse, there were wrinkles and bags under his eyes. Misaki knew that he should feel bad but he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty.

"N-No. They b-barely saved you." Manami held Takahiro's hand tightly while the elder man spoke, "Um but we wrote letters for you. So I guess I'll began."

So Misaki wasn't dead? The younger boy sighed in relief. It was a weird feeling, he wanted his life to end and he felt that the shadow looming over his life would go away if he died. Yet, he wanted to live. He wanted to graduate college, he wanted a child, not that he would admit that to Usagi-san, he wanted to pick roses and not wonder why beautiful things were allowed to live while ugly things died in a cruel way.

"Misaki, I love you. Since you w-were 8 I've always watched a-after you," Takahiro wiped away his tears, "And I just want you to get h-help. So I thought you s-should come…um…come home…with…uh-"

Manami sighed and rolled her eyes, "What your brother is trying to say is that we want you to come live with us. Just until we know that you're stable."

_Stable?_ What the hell? Misaki bit his tongue from being rude. She didn't notice and continue, "We just want to help you and we think that it would be healthier to be with people who love you rather than-"

"Get out." It was quiet after he said that. Misaki kept his head down to hide the angry tears streaming down his face.

"W-What?" Poor Manami didn't deserve Misaki's wrath, and the suicidal boy knew that too. Yet, there was not one fucks he gave about her feelings. Now while she was insulting Usagi-san. "I said get out."

"M-Misaki," Takahiro started, "W-we just want to help you-"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM!" Misaki lifted his head up to show his tears. Nobody moved; Misaki became infuriated. He didn't want his brother or his brother's wife. He wanted Usagi-san. He wanted his Usagi-san. Ripping the IV needles out of arms, he kicked all the sheets and pillows out of his bed. "Get out! Get out!"

He was tired of everyone pretending to care about him. He would much rather his brother yell at him than cry and stumble over his words. It was funny actually, he would much rather have the man that cheated on him than the man that raised him all his life.

Doctors rushed in attempting to sedate him but Misaki kicked them away from him. When it became hard to breathe, the one person he longed to see pulled the doctors away from him.

In that moment everything was silent. Misaki smiled a little, tears walked down his face and smacked into the indented bed. Takahiro, along with his wife and Akihiko's brother, shuffled into the room with the hopes of seeing a sedated Misaki. It didn't even matter that Akihiko had cheated on him; Misaki didn't realize just how much he missed the silver headed enigma. "Akihiko…."

Akihiko rushed forward and bear hugged the young male who began sobbing into the silk shirt that Akihiko no doubt paid quite a lot of money for. "I-I…" Misaki couldn't talk. He couldn't think; all he could smell was lavender, all he could feel was serenity. _Home._ If it were possible, his home would always be in Akihiko's arms.

Akihiko began talking fast paced, almost as if his words were trying to connect with Misaki's brain to let the unstable man know that Akihiko would never betray those who he loves.

"Sh. Just listen." Akihiko stroked Misaki's hair, "I wasn't in the bed because I was worried that you'd get up and find the ring."

Misaki clutched the shirt on Akihiko's back, "Aikawa helped me pick out the ring-"

"I chose it because you said you liked simple things." Aikawa said silently. Misaki smiled and chuckled.

Akihiko sighed, "And in return I foolishly went to the party. Then, because she engraved the ring with our anniversary date, Aikawa requested that I take her cousin shopping while she engraved your name in the band-"

Misaki groaned. How could he have ever thought Akihiko was betraying him? "I noticed you cried on the bathroom floor and I thought it was because it was raining and you missed your parents, I saw the marks on your neck but I thought they were love bites from me."

Misaki sobbed harder into Akihiko's shirt. "Usagi-san I-"

"I held you all night and I stood up all night hearing your sobs die down. I didn't say I love you everyday because I wanted to say it when I propose to you because I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

If possible Misaki cried harder, "I neglected you because I was going to propose to you on your birthday, then I was going to take you to dinner at that fancy restaurant that I know you like. I was going to introduce you to my father and my brother as my husband because I-"

Misaki sprang up and kissed Akihiko on the lips. His hands grabbed Akihiko's silver hair as the younger male pushed his older lover onto the bed. Straddling him, Misaki wiped his tears. Akihiko pushed up Misaki's sleeves (the green eyed boy was dressed because Akihiko had demanded he be dressed…at all times) and kissed the stitches that scarred Misaki's otherwise perfect skin. Misaki grimaced. How could someone so perfect kiss something so hideous?

Misaki looked at his brother in back of the room, then spoke to Akihiko in a worried and meek voice. "I won't do it again so don't let them take me away. I'm fine. Please, don't let them-"

Akihiko silenced Misaki with a kiss. "I won't let them."

Misaki was silent. After a few seconds, he jumped up excitedly, "I do."

Akihiko blinked, "What?"

Misaki put his head on Akihiko's chest. He internally promised that as long as Akihiko's heart was beating strongly, his would beat 10 times as stronger. "You proposed right? I do. I will marry you."

Akihiko's heart swelled. "A-Are you sure? I mean...it was my fault that you, you...you know."

"Don't be an idiot. It was my fault." Misaki kissed Akihiko again, "And don't get too used to these kisses, Mr. Usami."

"Don't worry. When you get out of here I'll make sure to get my fill of Misaki." Misaki blushed. "I love you, Misaki Takashi."

Misaki scoffed, "You mean Misaki Usami. Right?"

Akihiko kissed his lover again.

At that moment it didn't matter that the doctors were probably going to arrest Akihiko for punching them. It didn't matter that Takahiro would insist Misaki live with him. It didn't even matter that Haruhiko and Aikawa had been a primary force in the death of Misaki Takashi. There was no doubt, the Misaki he knew died. The Misaki he knew was pure and selfless. The Misaki that was birthed from the dark seeds of depression was the aftermath of a relationship with him. And he knew that he would **destroy** anyone who ever took away this beautiful, tainted, angel that loved him.

All that mattered was that they had each other until they day that they both died.

"Until death do us part." Misaki closed his eyes and let the doctors put the IV's back in him knowing that Akihiko would be there when he woke up. Forever and ever, until the day he died.

Misaki smiled.

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**THE END? **

Hope you liked the fluffy ending? I may do an epilogue. Maybe. If i get enough reviews ! Thank you for reading 3


	3. Same problems, new age

**You guys are going to hate me so much for the ending. I planed for it to be an epilogue but well...It kind of just flowed out. Don't worry, the next chapter will definitely be THE END! **

**Thanks for all of your support !**

Also, excuse the minor grammar errors. I don't really beta my own work (once I write it, I don't like to edit it)

* * *

_The one that got away_

_-Kuraineko66_

The red numbers blared at him, hissing angrily until Misaki was forced to acknowledge the time, which if he might say, blinked into Misaki's mind as if they were engraved into his thoughts. 1:45.

_Shit._ He wasn't even near finishing his final portfolio-it was due tomorrow and Misaki had been procrastinating. Well, he could always hand it in late. Misaki smiled, one of the perks of having your teacher absolutely head over heals for you. As a college senior, Misaki grew into his body; more confident in his stature he was clearly aware of the hundreds of campus girls, boys, and much to his dismay, teachers who wanted him romantically.

_Husband._ Misaki's mind auto-corrected his thoughts leaving the now 21 year old blushing. Some days, Misaki had to remind himself he was married. It was easy to forget, he hardly saw Usagi-san anymore. With the release of his new BL book_ Misaki: The Erotic Schoolboy,_ Misaki strangled Akihiko when the younger boy heard the title; Akihiko had been becoming distant with him.

The thought that Akihiko was cheating crossed his mind plenty of times before and, if he had been younger, Misaki probably would have dealt with the situation recklessly. But he was older now and he knew…knew what? Knew that nobody cared?

_No. People love- _Knew that he didn't deserve to live;

_Stop. _Knew that he was in a bubble that was suffocating him; destroying him, KILLING-

"Hey. I'm tired so I'm going to bed. You coming?" Akihiko leaned on the doorframe critically analyzing his younger lover. Scrutinizing every detail of Misaki, he wasn't good enough, he wasn't handsome enough, and he didn't deserve- "Misaki?"

Oh god, why was he here? Not again. He can't be…what cant he be? Sweat was pooling from Misaki's forehead, he was in his bad place again. But that was fine. The doctor told him that these days would come; he just had to get over it. It was the same empty, hollow, place that he was at two years ago; knuckles white, he gritted his teeth. He needed the cool, fresh metallic clashing onto his skin. No, No. He needed to think about what he was feeling rationally and logically. Since Misaki refused to take his meds, he needed sheer willpower to defeat the trapped, worthlessness he felt. He needed to escape before **the escape** became his only option. His only savior.

_Can't._ He couldn't escape because the cancer, the _slowly, killing him cancer, _was following him. It wouldn't leave. Misaki bit his lip to keep himself from crying; he would always be like this. He would always be-

"Misaki? Are you alright?" Akihiko was in front of his lover, he noticed Misaki flinch when he spoke and Akihiko was not happy at all. "Come on love, let's go to bed."

Misaki was weak. Inadequate. Pusillanimous demeanor. Feeble. Timid. **Nothing. He was nothing**, and everything. Everything wrong, everything fucked up inside the world, everything dead-he was that and so much more. He was everything beautiful, yes-Misaki considered his soul beautiful. Sure it was riddled with scars and pain, but he was overcoming his fears. He was being the man that he wanted to me. He was done with feeling like this. His therapist would be proud.

Formulating plans was Misaki's weak spot. His plans, be it morbid or happy, were carried out clumsily; they always failed. Always. He supposed that the inability to plan was something he should be thanking the heavens for; horrible planning meant that, in the situation that he felt his life was unnecessary, someone would help him see otherwise. However, this was his only plan that Misaki _begged and pleaded _for. He needed this to go right. For both his and Usagi-san's sake, he need his plan to be successful, otherwise he would crumble. He _needed_ closure.

"...Please?" Truth was, Akihiko was always frightened of Misaki. Well, of what Misaki would do. When he was in one of his moods, like now, Akihiko prayed to every deity that existed; Misaki was precious to him and he didn't know how he would cope without him.

Tomorrow was the anniversary of Akihiko's distrust, Misaki's birthday and, with request from the boy (mostly him begging), Akihiko prepared to spend it indoors with him. He had already hidden every sharp object in the house.

His eyes clouded over as he remembered the knife from two years ago, still bloodied from Misaki, in his cabinet drawer. He hadn't meant to keep the knife, especially since every time he looked at it his heart clenched with the realization that he couldn't protect Misaki. He still can't protect him. But Misaki's a grown man, Akihiko mind battled with the thought of protecting Misaki and giving Misaki his own independence, which Misaki seemed to have more than enough of.

So, after waiting a few seconds, Akihiko grabbed Misaki's cheek and looked into his eyes. "Remember what your therapist said? I'm here to talk, love. Always, okay? So come, let's go to bed and talk."

And just like that Misaki's anxiety washed away into the sublime of his mind. Misaki snorted, like his distorted mind was beautiful. "Y-Yea…sorry. Let's go to bed."

"Did you finish your portfolio?"

Akihiko sighed in relief when Misaki snorted comically; hopefully Akihiko didn't have to watch Misaki all night, just to make sure Misaki was truly okay…and alive.

"No. I'm sure he'll understand," Misaki said seductively, "I'll just use my manly charms."

Akihiko's hand tightened around his younger love's, "You will do no such thing!" Misaki laughed. "I'm serious Misaki!"

"Ooookay Mr. Grumpy." Misaki laughed, "So how was your day"

"Don't get me started. Haruhiko, the idiot he is, swears he's trying to help me but we all know he's just trying to start his own architectural firm."

The swelling began to creep on Misaki; it hurt so much Misaki was clutching his chest. From being together with Akihiko for years, Misaki knew when his caring, compassionate, husband was going to have a serious, heart to heart with him. "Misaki. We need to talk."

"No I'm fine."

"Misaki, you're not fine. You're anything but fine. Just…talk to me okay?"

He was a stubborn man, Misaki gave him that, but after over 4 years of being with the man Misaki knew how to change the subject fast.

"Is it hot in here or is it me?"

Akihiko raised his eye brow, "Wha-"  
Misaki took off his shirt and threw it on the floor; stretching seductively he faked

a yawn, "Mm. I wish someone would make me _hotter_ than I already am."

Akihiko took the hint, forgot what he was talking about, and smirked. "Well it is your birthday." His lover, lately, was bolder and was the first to say what he wanted, why he wanted it, and how he wanted it. And Akihiko was in bliss (Even though he knew he was being played like a fiddle). "So I guess I could grant you that wish."

Misaki smirked and ran to the bedroom, right behind him, a fully erect Usagi chased his prey. He never noticed when Misaki's smile dropped and honestly, Akihiko was so blissfully ignorant that he wasn't sure he wanted to believe that Misaki was crumbling. Again. Just like the day he tried to off himself.

* * *

Akihiko was sleeping, Misaki was sure of it. They had gone to bed at 4 in the morning. After taking a shower he found himself looking for something, anything, to help him with this suffocating feeling he had. No that wasn't true, a simple-_anything , _wouldn't suffice. He needed…**that.** The object that was shadowed over every conversation, a taboo subject for both males. The object that was only heard of, the object that Misaki was forced to relieve when he gave his story to those claiming to help him, the object that would now, end his suffering.

In anticipation and nerves, Misaki found himself smiling like an idiot. Even after stubbing his foot on the memoir he was smiling, where did Akihiko put it? Misaki knew that Usagi-san kept the damn thing! He said so in his journal (Misaki may have, on accident, come across a few compromising books on Akihiko's part).

Suddenly he heard a jingle come from the drawer and Misaki's smile dropped. His nerves kicked up full gear and he looked over to Akihiko who, despite the noise, was sleeping soundly. There was a glint that made Misaki's heart stand still; he felt inside the drawer and his hands rested on the only thing that kept him sane when he was younger. It was separated from the rest of its family, covered in blue cloth; delicately-Misaki grew innately jealous. The dark part of him rested in Akihiko's drawer, wrapped up in blue silk, cared for by the caressing fibers of cloth.

Misaki sighed, why was he thinking like that? He's matured…but then, why is he looking for the one thing that has potential to ruin his life? And why didn't Akihiko trust him? After two years you'd think he would at least put the knives back where they were supposed to be, if it were this easy to find, then why would he not put them in the kitchen? He did this last year on Misaki's birthday too. Yet, Misaki couldn't blame him-last year he was feeling rather down too.

Before he could talk himself out of it, the premise being that there were too many fresh wounds on his soul for him to touch the cause of it all, the handle was already in his hand. There was nothing that could stop him now.

There was nothing that could stop him now. That hit home with him, there was nobody to tell him what he would do is wrong. Nobody. No hospital, no over bearing brother, no…Usagi-san. Hopefully Akihiko stayed sleeping, peacefully. Hopefully, Akihiko won't tear down the city to find him if he woke. Which was why Misaki even wrote the letter in the first place. If he decided to not come back then Akihiko knew why. He wasn't left guessing like the last time Misaki had foolishly decided to…

Do it in the bathroom? Do it when Akihiko was obviously going to catch him? Or even do it at all?

Misaki groaned, somewhere deep inside he knew this was his way of processing the feelings within him. With great optimism, he hoped he would be in a better emotional state after his appointment, after he presented the object of question.

_Aw, fuck it._ He put the knife in his belt so that it hugged his skin tightly. Flesh touched silver and Misaki had to dig his fingernails into his hands to stop the pure self-loathing in his heart. _Do it. Do it. DO IT!_ Misaki ignored the calling, like he had done before. This was the last time that stupid voice would speak to him in such manner.

Making his way to his side of the bed, he folded the sheets, making sure that Akihiko was still covered, and placed the envelope containing his letter gingerly on his pillow. He kissed Akihiko's forehead and smiled when the elder male mumbled his name.

"I love you, you silver haired idiot." Misaki kissed him again and walked towards the door, choking back his tears Misaki glanced back at his husband, "After today we'll be happy…finally happy."

There were no words to describe the innate pain in his chest. He didn't want to say goodbye, goodbye made what he was feeling real. And in no way shape or form did Misaki plan to _not_ come back to _his_ husband, still that nagging feeling in his head tugged him to question himself. What if?

What if you give in? What if you aren't strong enough? What if it doesn't go away? No, No. It would get better…he just…had a few things to do. With a knife. With the knife in his belt that begged for a taste of his skin.

Misaki left at 2:00 p.m. not wanting to be late for his final appointment. It was his birthday and Misaki tended to be emotionally raw around this time. Last year's weekly appointment had been switched to his birthday so surely Misaki had the right to switch it this year.

Because didn't this all start on his birthday?

Yes, Misaki remembered every detail. Every bump the ambulance made, every guilt stricken face he'd woken up too, every cost of his stay at the hospital; every sad, overworked, miserable gesture Akihiko had tried, miserably, to hide.

It all started on his birthday, with a letter drowned with his emotions. And it will all end on his birthday, with a letter containing his goodbyes to the world he was had once been afraid of.

* * *

When Akihiko woke up to an empty bed he panicked, which was silly because Misaki was probably making breakfast. Like he always did. But that wasn't good enough to sate Akihiko's nerves. And it was 3:00 p.m. so the likelihood that Misaki was making breakfast was 20-80. Akihiko did not like those odds, not one bit. He sighed, remembering the day-after (the day after Misaki had been released from the hospital), which was named due to Misaki's **premature** release. Akihiko had nearly given himself a heart attack while scaring the young boy to pieces.

* * *

_Misaki was cooking breakfast; cutting the sausages into small parts as he wiped the sweat off of his shoulder. With his injuries, he shouldn't even be cooking; actually, he shouldn't even be touching a knife. He could lie to everyone else but if he were being honest, if he knew that Akihiko wasn't upstairs, then Misaki would go back in that bleach-smelling bathroom and finish what he started._

_Actually, he should just do it now. No, No…Akihiko is your fiancé now. You are going to be happy. But Misaki couldn't think rational. He was just so, so, sad. All the time. He was sad when he wasn't with Akihiko and he couldn't be with his lover all the time. His life was pathetic. He was miserable and his life was pathetic. Fuck it. He was going to do it. He was going to end this pathetic cycle of pain and abuse. His soul was broken. __**He**__ was broken. He pressed the knife against his skin and-_

"_Misaki! What are you doing?" Akihiko ran across the living room and took the knife from his hand. He saw the worry and fright in Akihiko's eyes and blanched, he was guilty. He shouldn't live. No. Shut up Misaki. _

"_Making breakfast…if you would give me the knife back so I can cut-"_

_Misaki jumped out of his skin when Akihiko pulled him into a hug, "NO! No! No!" _

"_Okay! Okay, okay. Jeez. Relax will you?" _

"_I want you to see a therapist." _

_Misaki blanched. He was paler than normal, "What? That was pretty random. I mean, I don't see why you would say that-" _

"_Because I caught you fondling a knife Misaki." _

…_Point taken. "Please."_

"_Okay." _

_Akihiko didn't expect Misaki to agree with him that quickly. Unbeknownst to him, Misaki was glad that he would finally be able to be rid of the feeling that seemed to be crushing him._

"_Um…okay…do…will you watch me then?" Misaki added quickly, "I don't think I can hold it on my own anyway, well…not without wanting to-" Misaki stopped suddenly. Akihiko didn't want to hear this. Surely he didn't want to hear how his younger lover was royally fucked in the head. _

_And he didn't, Akihiko ordered his breakfast from a small dinner down the block and commanded Misaki to sit where he was visable. He couldn't bear to watch his lover pretend to be normal when, frankly, both males knew he would never be again. _

* * *

Something was wrong. It was deathly silent; he had a very, _very,_ very bad feeling in his stomach. As his eyes adjusted to the blaring light, his head felt dizzy. His cabinet drawer was open.

"Misaki?" He called out; Did he forget to shut it? Oh shit, was he robbed? He looked around and noticed that everything else seemed in order. "Misaki?" He called louder.

Akihiko couldn't remember why that cabinet was so important until he went to dress himself and caught a glimpse of silver cutlery, which Akihiko had tried to keep hidden. Akihiko's body threw himself on the floor in search of the particular knife that sent Usagi's mind railing to darker thoughts. But all he found was blue cloth. "Misaki?"

His head turned to the right and his stomach dropped. There was an envelope. Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

With shaky hands, Akihiko tore open the envelope and began reading. Tears dropped on the letter.

_'First things fist…"_

That was enough to send him in a fit of hysterics. He banged screamed, letting out his frustration, his worries...his **love**, "MISAKI!"

Misaki never answered.


	4. Broken Surface

We've reached the end, haven't we? Ah, it was such a nice ride. Thank you for all those who PM'D me and those who reviewed, liked, favorited, subscribed and basically read my story.

Introduction of a new character: This character wasn't in the manga nor the anime, however, she's essential to the story because basically, it's like author meets Misaki. So what I'm saying is that everything the female character says pertains to a certain aspect of my life. :)

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_**ALSO! Follow my youtube page (I perform a bit of spoken word ;) )**_

_**Just search Andriana Caban in the engine and presto! **_

* * *

_The one that got away_

_-Kuraineko66_

"Thank you for meeting me here," She didn't move. Misaki didn't expect her to either; "I know it's against protocol for you to meet me here, so really, from the bottom of whatever heart I have left, thank you."

Misaki could hardly retain his flinch when she joined him, on the bridge, and grabbed his hand. "Entirely inappropriate and unprofessional."

She squeezed his hand, "But entirely understandable."

After the initial shock, Akihiko sank to his knees, and read:

* * *

_First things first Usagi-san, _

_I am sorry. What for? I'm not entirely sure. But I am so sorry that you are in love with a man who can't seem to escape the darkness. We both thought I was getting better, I thought we would be able to continue our regular way of life. That's just not possible anymore. I won't let that be possible anymore._

_And I'm sorry for that. I am. But I can't help thinking that I am already dead; I am in hell. Do you understand? No, of course you wouldn't. It wouldn't matter if I killed myself because I, drowning in all my sins, am already a hallow shell of who I was. As much as I scratch and tear, my skin smells like burning flesh. It aches like coal and rocks, it burns like matches and acid, my skin bleeds-the flesh tears and rips against the manacles that hold me. And it won't stop bleeding, creating a river to drown others with._

_I'm sorry. But I am a walking corpse. I am dead. I am already too dead to be saved. _

Akihiko started pacing; calling Misaki's cell was useless. It went straight to voicemail. "Fuckin' idiot."

* * *

Misaki took the object out of his pocket and thrust it at his friend with so much force it sliced her hand and had her cursing lightly. She supposed she should be used to this, Misaki wasn't the first to bring a weapon. Wasn't the first to harm her with said weapon, be it accidental or purposefully. Actually, it wasn't the first time her skin had been cut by a blade. For that, she winced slightly. However, he was the first to look as if said weapon were burning his skin each moment it remained in his vicinity. And he was the first that she would stand on the ledge of a bridge for.

Looking down at death, eyes squinting, she lifted up her glasses and threw them down. To let Misaki know that falling was endless. That once you reached the bottom, you died and dissented into a world unknown. She really didn't know if that was motivation to jump or motivation not to. Well, either choice he made, she would be there with him every step of the way. Like no one had done for her.

With no emotion, because that's just how she was, she held the knife in her hand and opened her mouth to speak. Being so used to everyone asking him why, Misaki began to grow increasingly upset. Why did you do it? Why are you so depressed? Why would you want to leave your perfect, lavish life? Why? WHY? Always fucking why.

Every therapist he had ever went to have always asked him 'why'. And he wasn't prepared to answer that question, ESPECIALLY if he was contemplating between the few meager choices he had at living.

But that's not what she said. She looked into his eyes and said, "Who are you?"

* * *

_I guess I could tell you where I am. It would be easier, you would be able to get me down from the ledge I'm probably on…if I haven't jumped. No…No, I won't jump. At least, I hope not. I had always been a cutter. I'll probably always be a cutter. So if I were going to end my life, it would be with the blade. _

_Anyway, It would be easier if you were here. I would be a coward and pretend that everything was all right when really, for the past five years of my pathetic life, everything has been a shit hole. I am a failure in everything. I don't know if I could live like this anymore. I don't know…I just don't think that I'd be able to function feeling like I'm suffocating inside a jar. Like I'm on display for everyone who's normal; to judge me. To tell me how fucking perfect their life is. _

"Misaki…please…" Although he knew no one would be listening Akihiko had hoped Misaki would hear him. If he was still alive.

_As much as I lean on you for support, you destroy me. You are my light to the dark and the dark to my light. I am drowning because I have to live with you being miserable with me; every night I spend crying, every day I spend indoors, every second I spend in recovery with you is a minuet more of your life that I don't deserve. _

_This guilt, I deserve everything I've ever done to myself. I deserve every feeling of self-hate, every demon that has penetrated my core and raped my soul. I deserve to die. And you know, fuck me, because even though I believe I'm a worthless piece of shit, I'm not; I deserve to live! I have been nothing but self-less, I have let Takahiro run his feelings right through me, I have let your family continue treating me as inferior, I have let the world walk up and down on my chest leaving mud on my clothes. _

_I don't deserve to be sick; I should deserve to be free. Alive, well, happy, and free._

_I shouldn't be living for anyone. Not for you! Not for the doctors who only worsen my self hate! Not for the therapists who think I'll get better with a few pills and wishful thinking. I deserve to live for myself. But I don't feel that I'm worthy, and that is why I am now colder than the fire burning within me. _

* * *

Misaki looked at her in shock, "I thought…" Misaki gulped, "You haven't asked me why yet. Out of the three weeks I've been seeing you, you haven't once asked me why? Don't you want to know? "

Her eyebrow raised, "No. I don't, I already know why."

Her eyes glossed over. No longer was she speaking to her patient nor to her new friend, she was speaking of herself to herself, "You don't want your family members to know how much you're suffering with your feelings, not because you'll hurt them but because you've always been the composed one. You listen to everyone else's problems as you kill yourself slowly. Drugs won't help, alcohol won't help, and therapists sure as hell don't help."

Misaki looked at her shocked, "I-"

"And most of all, the most important fact of why you're not already dead, is because you are afraid of what lies ahead of you. You don't want to face those you've disgraced by trying to kill yourself and you don't want to be dragged into a hell worse than the one we're in already."

Misaki could only nod, picking up on the fact that she had addressed herself as 'those who don't want to face themselves' "Y-yea…" No therapist of his had every said those unbearable truths. It was almost as if she was speaking from the heart, like she had been in his shoes; he could feel her emotions, matching in pain and suffering with his. "I-"

Coming out of her trance her back straightened and the tone of professionalism returned, "So…again…I ask, who are you?"

"Broken." He didn't hesitate nor did he lie. He was a defeated man, with no pride left for his family.

"And when will you be _fixed_?" She hissed the word 'fixed' like it was burning her tongue.

Misaki flinched and let silence carry out the air of awkwardness.

"I know it isn't something that goes away in a day," He was staring intently at the water beneath him. "Or in a year, or two for that matter…yet I feel…I feel that it can go away…but I'm not trying hard enough…" he paused, carefully choosing his next choice of words, "I want this to be over. I **need** this to be over. Frankly, I don't think I can handle another day of living in fear that Akihiko will come home to be dead."

She shook her head, "No, Misaki."

His eyebrows furrowed as he shifted his body so he could watch her face. Emotionless. Misaki didn't know what was going through her head. He never could figure it out, yet he knew, that she had gone through sufferings unlike him. Holding onto the support beam, she pointed the knife at Misaki's throat, "You are afraid of the monster you have created."

She pressed harder, "And of the demons tormenting your mind-festering in your closet."

A trickle of blood dropped onto his shirt, weaving itself into the fabric of his clothes, "You are afraid of the thoughts you have, you are afraid of death, and you are afraid that the only one that matters," _Usagi-san, _Misaki filled with guilt, "Will hate you for who you have become."

Misaki tried to deny it, he tried to defend himself, but he didn't have enough energy to do so.

"But…Misaki...You are so much like me." She smiled and closed her eyes, "Because most importantly, the thing you fear most is indeed….yourself."

And it was true.

* * *

_I haven't been taking my meds._

What? How could Akihiko not have noticed that his beautiful Misaki was off his meds? It was his fault that Misaki was probably dead. Akihiko sobbed again and scratched at his skin. He couldn't take this anymore. His love for Misaki was poisoning his heart. Akihiko figured, after he read the letter, he would join Misaki wherever the young boy was. Whether he was alive or dead. Because he was just so fucking tired of being alone.

_They make my head hurt, they make me feel so worthless. They stop me from killing myself though, but they make me so __**dull**__ and boring and NOT myself at all. So now I'm off them and it's been…two weeks? I have thought about suicide on a numerous of occasions. I've had to talk myself out of doing it. I have you, I would tell myself. _

_But do I really have you? _Of course, until death do us part. Akihiko allowed himself a small smile. _You are not my possession; I don't own you as you own me. Let's face it Akihiko, you have the option to leave me but I can never leave you._

_I have become so dependent on you that every breath I take awaits your approval, it not your fault but mine. I really fucked it up this time…didn't I dear? _

_Today will change all of that. _

No…no…

_I will gain my own independence. I will not fail this time. I am sure of my actions; I no longer have energy to care. But if I did…if I did have the energy to care, it would be because you, once again, found me and saved me. _

_I'm scared. Usagi-san, I am scared. But I hope…oh god I hope so much that I will beat the clock this time. _

* * *

And there was a glimmer of hope in Akihiko that Misaki was still alive. He grabbed his keys and ran out of the house, reading all the way.

"And of your lover?" Her legs had gotten cold in the freezing Japan climate. She had never liked winter much, despite being born in December. "Isn't he the reason why you're still alive?"

Misaki's eyes watered again. "He's the only thing that gets me through these fits. He is such a perfect, loving, compassionate husband…he doesn't deserve me."

Misaki sobbed out, "Oh god, what am I doing? How could I do this to him? How could I be so fucking selfish! Why can't I be normal?"

She nodded, simply because she knew how he felt. Or rather, she **knows** how he feels. Without her spoken acceptance, Misaki continued in a calmer manner. His eyes were shut closed. The taste of seawater touched his tongue; the smell of freedom brushed his face. The drop was clouded by mist and, although it was almost 3:15, the water was covered with gray and black. To Misaki, the drop from the bridge to the water looked like a pit.

_A pit to hell_. Misaki shivered.

"I know you diagnosed me and that I have depression and that I feel sad all the time…but…I just feel…I don't know…never mind, you wouldn't understand."

"But I do." She smiled sweetly, the first specs of emotion shining onto her face, "I…when I was young, I tried to overdose. Obviously it didn't work…but I still tried. Nearly died too. Should have…but I didn't, I didn't for a reason. And you didn't for a reason."

He smiled and she simply didn't know what to do when the hand, encompassing hers, squeezed tighter, "I…can't help feeling that I should push whatever feeling I have aside. For Usagi-san, but I'm strong and I don't know if I'll survive-"

"You will survive!" Her voice startled Misaki but he regained his balance and looked over at her face. Tears were trailing down her tanned face, curling around the strands of brown hair that dared mask her emotions. "I am not here as a therapist, I am not even here as a friend. I am here because I _know_ what you are going through. I am _living_ with what you are going through."

"I know you do."

"I will show you," She held out her arm; hair flowing in the wind, eyes squinted and teary, she dropped the knife down into the pit, "That although death may need you, you do not need death."

He rubbed the tears away from his face, "I'm sorry."

She shook her heard, "Be sorry for the things you have done, not the things that you have witnessed."

"Thank you."

She nodded her head and backed off of the ledge, "As I said, I am too afraid to die."

He breathed in slowly and cried, again, for the amount of pain Usagi-san would have to endure. "Yea…"

"But you must do what you have come here for: the choice is yours….this is your form of independency."

"Thank you for everything. I finally…I can do it without…thank you." Misaki shut his eyes closed and squeezed.

And she knew, right there, the choice Misaki would make. She also knew whose car that was speeding towards them. And she knew, that despite only knowing the boy for a short amount of time, despite being his therapist and despite being a professional, she would save him. He was everything that she prided herself to be, and if no one had saved her, she would make sure that she saved him.

"Goodbye." She said and, unbeknown to him, prepared herself for the events to come.

Time stopped as he began falling forwards. If he was going to go, he might as well enjoy his descent. He made no move to stop himself from falling.

She froze, whether it was awe or terror, she didn't know. He did it. He had allowed himself death, a freedom that she had always dreamed of.

"NO! MISAKI!"

Misaki's eyes flew open. _Usagi-san? _It was too late. He was falling-the wind rushed out to greet him, arms wrapped around his neck pulling him closer to his impending doom. Sharp pain collided into his head and he blacked out.

It was too late.

…It was too late.

…It…too late?

Too…too late…it was…

He was…falling?

Oh…

He had jumped.

* * *

_I know I can never look at a knife without my skin wanting to be touched and caressed by it. But that's just my flaw._

_Or one of my flaws because god knows I have many of them. _

_But Akihiko. This letter is different than the first one you read. This one is a letter to show that I have changed. That I have stopped struggling against the manacles of my depression. I am strong and I am not living because of you anymore. I am living because I owe myself that much; I have abused myself. And I pray, that from the bottom of my heart, you understand why I must do this. _

_Why I must end it all. Because I am strong._

_Akihiko. I think you should know that I love you. I am your husband and I love you. I have loved you when your brother kidnapped me, when your father tried to threaten me away, and when you hit me that one time after I told you I would set myself on fire. Don't worry I forgive you as you forgive me. We were both really drunk. _

_And I made a promise; I will love you through death. If death is the only way of escape for me, I will still love you. Even if my soul is dragged to hell and I burn everyday-I will love you. _

_I'm sorry Akihiko, for everything that I am. For everything that I was. And for everything that I couldn't be. _

_You will find me and you may even rescue me._

Akihiko drove faster and faster until he was speeding through each red light. He read the last sentence and shivered, every hope drained from his body.

_But you will never save me. _

* * *

His blood froze, Misaki jumped; "NO! MISAKI!"

Misaki was genuinely surprised. His therapist didn't say much, she observed in a neutral attitude and Misaki was grateful that he wasn't being judged. Today was the first that she allowed emotions on her face. Yet, he couldn't ignore the fact that his vision was returning to him and she was the first thing he saw. He blinked twice and looked up. Her hair was disheveled, she was hunched over the ledge, hair wild, face twisted, brown eyes marred in pain. She clenched harder. "I thought you understood!"

She growled, "I do fucking understand!" Misaki gasped. She never had emotions, never. So why now? "It's because I fucking understand that I'm saving you, you moronic piece of shit."

Misaki couldn't see much since he was dangling from the ledge of a bridge, but he could feel himself being handed off to another person.

_Usagi-san. _

"Misaki, please- I'll listen to you more. I'll do anything just please; help me get you-" Akihiko was cut off by the 5 foot woman who sat herself on the ledge, back against the support beam. "No."

"No, no more talking."

Misaki bit his lip to stop crying. He was strong. "Usagi-san I'm sorry. I am so so-"

"I said, SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Both males stared at the short woman in shock, "You are a selfish and you deserve to die."

Akihiko reeled back and almost dropped Misaki. "How dare you-"

"You deserve to be hated and judged. You deserve every second you suffocate, you deserve every scratch you give yourself and you are the reason your father is dead."

"S-Stop." Misaki sobbed out loud, "You are filth. You are trash. Do you think you are worthy of love? All guys want to do is fuck you and leave you."

"Please…p-please stop." Misaki was shaking; it was hard for Akihiko to hold him. The silver haired male began pulling his lover up. The only thing left was for Misaki to let go of the bar that he was clutching onto.

"If you don't shut your mouth I swear to-" Once again, Akihiko went ignored to the brown eyed, brown haired beauty. However, it wasn't her words that silenced him. It was the endless depths that were in her eyes. She held so much sadness, so much anger, in two slightly dilated pupils. Akihiko couldn't argue, despite his Misaki being verbally attacked. Her sadness encompassed any hatred Akihiko could ever harbor for her.

"Your father died knowing that you hated him. He thought you hated him! How could you let him think that? You were his daughter, his jewel. _His baby! _And you fucking let him think he was unworthy of your attention."

"No…no…nooo!"

_Daughter? _Akihiko paused to think. Iris eyes widened, she was…speaking about herself?

"You whored yourself off to the first man that found you pretty. Nobody heard you struggle because _you didn't deserve to be saved._"

"That's not true!"

Misaki let go of the ledge and Akihiko dragged his lover to safety. Misaki fell, head first, into Akihiko's broad chest. The two stayed like that for a while; Akihiko breathing and Misaki listening to his heartbeat. The tears welled up in his eyes and Misaki jumped on his feet.

"You!" He pointed his finger at the girl, still on the ledge. "I thought you were my friend! How could you say all of those-"

"Now…who are you?"

Misaki looked at her flabbergasted. "W-What? What does-"

"Who are you?"

He clicked his teeth.

"You know who I am."

To this day, the haunted look on his therapist's face made him shiver. "Yes, but do you?"

"This has nothing to do with who I am! Who the hell do you think you are? Judging me! Nothing you fucking said is true!"

"You are a disgrace. WHO ARE YOU?"

"I'M MISAKI! I'M WORTHY! I'M FUCKING WORTH! I deserve to live for myself! I DESERVE TO LIVE FOR...myself."

She smirked, "And where are you?"

"On the ground, idiot…on the ground?" Misaki smiled and jumped into Akihiko's arms. "I'm on the ground!"

Akihiko clutched Misaki like a lifeline. "I'm…I'm…"

"I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry anymore. I can't…I won't…" Misaki locked lips with Akihiko, "If I go…"

"Then take me with you."

Misaki nodded and kissed Misaki.

She looked down again. Her tears slithered off of her face and fell into the forgotten pit.

And just like it had come, Misaki had broken through the surface and breathed. Truly breathed.

The girl with brown, wavy curls was still dying, still crumbling inside. But he was no longer drowning and that was all that mattered.

* * *

A happy ending? Or is it really?

REVIEW! You don't know how much review's mean to me! AND PM ME AND look at my spoken poetry.


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